A Royal Wager: Persuading the Playboy King / Unmasking the Maverick Prince / Daring the Dynamic Sheikh

As if some wild wanton creature had crawled beneath her skin, Kate lifted her leg over Marc’s thighs. He groaned against her mouth and took her down onto the couch, where he settled on top of her, his own leg dividing her legs. He momentarily broke the kiss to raise her shirt, untie his robe and push it open, before taking her mouth once more. But he didn’t use his hand to tantalize her; he used his chest, lightly rubbing her bare breasts, drawing away slightly then rubbing again and again, in maddening circular motions. The fine veneer of chest hair tickled her nipples into hard, sensitive buds and sent a wash of dampness between her thighs.

Unraveled by his skill, his welcome weight and deep kisses, Kate tilted her hips up to feel him more, as if that might soothe the ache. And she did feel him, every solid inch of him, through the thin material of his pajamas.

As if he recognized her need, Marc slid his hand between them at her abdomen. The tug on the snap of her jeans only heightened Kate’s excitement and spurred her anticipation.

Then suddenly, there was nothing. No kisses. No touches. No Marc.

Kate opened her eyes and looked up to find Marc standing several feet away, his back to her, both hands laced together behind his neck. And then came Kate’s complete mortification in a few moments of silence that seemed to last hours.

“I’m sorry, Kate.”

He was apologizing again, and Kate was without a doubt more embarrassed than she’d ever been her entire life. She pulled her shirt down, scooted to the edge of the sofa and clutched her disheveled hair by the roots. “I can’t imagine what you must think of me right now.”

He sat beside her, his expression remorseful as he took her hand into his. “Would you like to know what I think of you? I think you’re the most incredible, sensual woman I’ve encountered in many years, if not ever. I think that if I hadn’t remembered why we cannot do this, I would be inside of you at this moment and that would be wrong.”

His words gave her a courage she’d never known before, at least where men were concerned. “Why would it be wrong, Marc? We’re both adults. No one’s around. No one would have to know.”

He released a harsh sigh. “Because I could only offer you a casual affair, in secret. Because you’re a good woman, Kate, and you deserve to be treated as such, not hidden away from the world.”

Kate had always been the good girl. The good, reliable girl. She’d grown tired of bearing that label, weary of being that girl. Besides, she was a woman now, with a woman’s desires and needs—and she was with a man who had the knowledge and the means to take her beyond the limit. But he wasn’t willing to answer those needs, at least not now.

Kate wrenched her hand from his and crossed her arms over her chest thinking that might alleviate the sudden cold that had replaced the heat, a futile gesture. “I guess you’re right, Marc. So let’s just chalk up my total lack of restraint to my current state of jet lag. I should probably go back to the hotel now.”

When Kate stood, Marc caught her wrist. “Stay here, tonight, Kate. With me. You need your rest. We can both sleep on the sofa.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Kate said, although regardless of her reckless behavior and his subsequent rejection, she would like nothing more than to wake in Marc’s arms.

After gathering a throw from the opposite arm of the couch, Marc tied his robe, worked his way to the corner of the sofa and pulled her down into his arms. “Stretch out your legs and put your head on my chest. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

“Darn it.”

He tossed the throw over them both. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is, fair lady, or I’m afraid I’ll have to lock you in the dungeon.”

Kate felt giddy and punch-drunk. “Exactly how hard is it?”

Marc cracked a crooked smile. “You could not begin to imagine.”

Oh, but she didn’t have to rely on her imagination. She’d gotten the extent of “it” a few moments before and in the kitchen. She doubted she would ever forget how he’d felt against her. But right now she should try to sleep. Morning would come all too soon, and her time alone with Marc would probably come to an end. After tonight, she had no doubt he would probably avoid her from here on out. And maybe that was best. After all, he was a king, she was a doctor, and he had something to prove—that he could resist her. That made Kate smile as she closed her eyes.

Imagine that. King Marcel DeLoria had found her irresistible.

“Marcel, wake up.”

Marc forced his eyes open to find his mother standing before the sofa, Cecile propped on one hip, flailing her tiny arms about as if directing an orchestra. What in the devil was Mary doing up this time of the night and why was she fully dressed as if ready to hold court? Unless it was already morning. Surely not. No more than an hour had passed since he’d finally drifted off, or at least it seemed that way.

Every molecule of his body ached from the position he’d kept for the past few hours, one part in particular, thanks to the woman in his arms. Some time during the night, Kate had inadvertently landed her palm on his groin—and for some insane reason, he’d left it there. Luckily the throw and his robe covered his lower body, adequately concealing his predicament from his matriarch.

When Cecile squealed, Kate snapped up like a bedspring, tossed the cover aside and pushed her hair away from her face. “What time is it?”

Marc slid the throw back into his lap as nonchalantly as possible. “Very early,” he said, his voice rough from lack of sleep, unanswered need and an abundance of annoyance.

Mary took a seat in the chair across from the sofa, Cecile in her lap happy as a lark. “It’s not quite dawn. When Cecile awakened, I relieved Beatrice so she could have some sleep, since it seems our little one has her days and nights confused.”

“At least someone’s sleeping,” Marc grumbled yet he couldn’t help but smile at Cecile as she gummed his mother’s favorite string of pearls hanging from Mary’s throat. Only an innocent could get away with such anarchy.

When Mary surveyed Kate’s disheveled appearance, Marc could almost hear the cogs turning in her mind. “I hadn’t realized Kate had not returned to the hotel,” she said.

Kate averted her eyes and tugged at her wrinkled T-shirt. “Actually, I did return to the hotel. Marc called and asked me to come and check on Cecile when she wouldn’t sleep. He thought she was ill.”

“She certainly seems well enough to me,” Mary said as she brushed a kiss across the baby’s cheek. Then she leveled her gaze on Marc. “I hope you didn’t take advantage of Kate’s courtesy, Marcel.”

He glanced at Kate who was sporting a deep blush. “Mother, I assure you I did not take advantage of Kate. And if you’re intimating that something sordid went on last night, you are wrong.” Not that he hadn’t considered it. “We were both very tired and we fell asleep during a movie.”

“Of course I would not think such a thing, dear boy. Kate would never do something sordid.”

He experienced a sudden surge of anger that effectively repressed any lingering effects of his desire for the doctor. “But I would?”

“I suppose not, since you appear to have on your robe, although it’s difficult to tell with you clutching that throw as if you feared it might walk away.”

Marc yanked the blanket aside. “Happy now, Mother? I have done nothing to compromise Kate’s or my reputation.” And not because he didn’t want Kate; he did. Even now with her curled up on the couch, both her clothes and hair a mess, he still wanted her. Badly.

Mary sighed. “But you did leave quite a disaster in the kitchen. Cook is already grousing this morning.”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Kate said. “I meant to clean up before I fell asleep, since Marc did the cooking.”

Mary sent Kate a kind look. “Nonsense, my dear. You are our guest. Marc could have cleaned up after himself, although I’m not certain he’s learned the fine art of housekeeping.”

His mother was obviously determined to ruin his day. “Don’t you think I already have enough responsibilities, Mother?”

“Yes, dear, you do.” She sent a pointed look at Cecile, causing Marc to grit his teeth.

After coming to her feet, Kate walked to the chair and said, “May I hold her?”

“Why, of course.” Mary stood and relinquished Cecile to Kate.

Kate hugged the baby and kissed her cheek. “I hope you’ve gotten plenty of sleep, little one, since we have a busy morning ahead of us at the clinic.”

Marc leaned his head against the sofa, all the energy seeming to drain from him at that moment. “I bloody well forgot about the damn test.”

“Take care with your language, Marcel,” Mary scolded. “You have two ladies present and one grandmother who will not tolerate disrespect.”

“My apologies,” Marc muttered, a long list of descriptive curses threatening to explode from his mouth. The queen mother was already laying claim to Cecile before proof of that fact existed.

“How is your headache, Mary?” Kate asked, looking uncomfortable over the exchange between mother and son.

Mary laid a hand on Kate’s arm. “My dear, it is completely gone, thanks to you. That neck massage you gave me did the trick.”

“It was no problem at all.” She regarded Marc over her shoulder. “I learned some massage therapy while I was in med school. Pressure points, that sort of thing, to relieve tension.”

Marc had a point of pressure he would greatly like Kate to relieve. Instead, his mother had received a massage and he’d only acquired a painful kink in his neck and a prominent swelling beneath his pajamas.

Kate handed the baby back to Mary and said, “Well, I guess I need to return to the hotel and freshen up before we go to the clinic.”

“You must stay for breakfast, dear. Cook has begun the preparations.”

Kate turned to Marc as if seeking reinforcement. “It might be better if I leave now. We need to get everything done before the clinic opens.”

Marc stood. “I’ll have Mr. Nicholas take you back to the hotel immediately.”

“That’s fine,” Kate said, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

Marc had done nothing but disappoint her the past few hours; that much he knew. Last night, she had needed something from him, something he hadn’t been able to give to her—and not because he hadn’t wanted to. But if he’d touched her in the way that he’d wanted, he might not have been able to stop with only a touch. And if not careful, it would happen again…and again.

An hour later, Kate and Marc slipped through the clinic’s back door with the baby in tow, fortunately finding the place totally deserted. In a small room at the far end of the corridor, Kate thoroughly examined Cecile, who remained content by chewing on the hem of her discarded cornflower blue dress while Marc looked on. Cecile seemed very healthy, only slightly below average in weight and height for a child of seven months, if, in fact, that was her age. Kate could only estimate unless the mother came forward. At least today they might learn more about the father, namely if he could possibly be Marc or Philippe.

With that thought, Kate took a lancet in hand to draw Cecile’s blood. She hated this part the most—sticking an unsuspecting baby.

After returning to the table, she told Marc, “If you could just hold her a little, that would be a big help.”

Marc frowned. “Will it hurt her very much?”

Kate smiled at the concern in his tone and expression. “Only a little finger prick, but she’s not going to like it. That’s why I need to make sure she doesn’t move away.”

Marc did as he was told, speaking to Cecile in a soothing tone while Kate applied the stick. Cecile looked surprised at first, then her tiny bottom lip quivered and she let out a wail when Kate began to knead her finger.

“That’s it, sweetie,” Kate said after she had enough of a sample on the glass slide. “All done here. I hope you don’t hate me now.”

Cecile buried her face against Marc’s chest and released a few sniffles before turning back to Kate and holding out her arms.

“Obviously she doesn’t hate you at all,” Marc said as Kate took the baby.

Kate wondered if Marc hated her after their interlude last night. Maybe hate was too strong a word, but she doubted he was pleased by her behavior. She couldn’t worry about that now. She had too much to do.

Kate swiped the downy blond hair away from Cecile’s forehead and planted a kiss there. “She’s a very brave girl. Now I’ll just get her dressed and you can take her home while I work on the test. Hopefully she’ll be ready for a nap.”

“I am most definitely ready for a nap,” Marc said, his off-kilter smile reappearing. “I’m sure you are as well. We could crawl up on the sofa and see what we can find in the way of daytime programming.”

Okay, so maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe he wasn’t all that concerned about what had and hadn’t happened last night. But it would be best for all concerned if they steered clear of that kind of situation from this point forward.

She sent him a cautioning glance. “I think we should avoid the TV at all costs.”

He looked frustrated. “You’re probably right. While you’re dressing Cecile, I’m going to see if Dr. Martine has arrived yet. He’s supposed to be on his way. I’ll be back as soon as possible since it’s getting late. Perhaps we’ll be able to leave undetected.”

“I’ll see you in a while then.”

Marc leaned over to kiss Cecile’s cheek and for the briefest of moments, Kate thought he might kiss her, too. Instead, he turned away and quickly headed out the door.

Kate rummaged through the bag and withdrew a clean diaper to change Cecile, who wasn’t altogether cooperative. Several times, Kate feared that the little girl might hurl herself off the table before Kate had the diaper secured. After success finally came, Kate pulled her up and began to dress her.

“I wish I had your energy, little one,” she told her when Cecile immediately discarded the sock that Kate had just slipped on her foot. “I just know you’re going to give Beatrice a run for her money today. That is, if I can get you to keep your clothes on.” With effort, she finally managed to secure the rest of the buttons on Cecile’s dress. “But I can’t really blame you. Right now, I’d really like to get out of these slacks and shoes and take a long, hot bath.”

“Do you need any assistance?”

The hairs on Kate’s neck stood at attention when recognition dawned. She glanced over her shoulder to confirm her fears and found Renault leaning in the doorway with all the cockiness of a twenty-year-old jock—and only half the height and body. His sparse blond hair was slicked back, his beady brown eyes focused on the baby. So much for a quick getaway.

Kate lifted Cecile into her arms and faced the jerk, trying to affect calm when her mind was struggling to come up with an explanation. “Good morning, Dr. Renault. I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

“Nor I you.” He moved closer and surveyed Cecile. “I’ve been told you would not assume your duties until tomorrow.”

Evasion was probably her best line of defense, Kate decided. “That’s correct.”

“Yet you’re examining this child.”

“Yes.”

“I did not see anyone in the waiting room. Does she have parents?”

“Of course she has parents. Didn’t they teach you in medical school that those old folktales about storks and cabbage patches aren’t true?”

Renault’s smile was cynical. “I assure you, Dr. Milner, I know all the workings of procreation. You have still not answered my question. To whom does this child belong?”

Think quick, Kate. “Actually, she belongs to me.”

Renault raised one bushy eyebrow. “Martine did not mention you have a child.”

“Well, I do, and this is her. Cecile.”

He stroked his pointy chin. “Ah, Cecile. A very fine French name. Is your husband French?”

“I don’t have a husband.” And that wasn’t a lie.

“The baby’s father, then?”

“He’s not in the picture.” An understatement in the first order.

Renault gave Kate a slimy visual once-over, fitting for a human slug. “I must say, you are in very fine shape given the age of this child. I admire you for that. In fact, I admire everything about you.”

Kate resisted telling him where to stuff his admiration. “Thank you.” She had to get away before he asked more questions. “I really need to get her home for her morning nap. But first, I have a few tests I need to run.”

“Is she ill?”

“No. Just routine labs.”

“I would be more than happy to assist you.”

“I believe Dr. Milner is quite capable of working alone, Renault.”

Kate turned to see Marc sporting a look that could wither the overhead light.

Renault didn’t look the least bit concerned over Marc’s presence or his sharp tone. “I am most certain, Your Highness, Dr. Milner is quite capable in all that she endeavors. I was simply trying to be accommodating.”

Marc balled his hands into fists at his sides. “She doesn’t need your assistance, I assure you.”

Renault turned back to Kate, bowed slightly and kissed Cecile’s hand. “You are a lovely girl, Cecile.”

Kate wanted to cheer when Cecile pulled her hand away and hid her face against Kate’s shoulder. Either she had stranger phobia or good instincts. Kate assumed the latter, considering she had taken to Kate, Marc and his mother without hesitation.

Before Renault passed Marc at the door, Marc told him, “You will practice the utmost in decorum where Dr. Milner is concerned or you will answer to me. Is that clear?”

Renault sent Kate a lecherous glance, then glared at Marc. “Quite clear, Your Majesty. I do not intend to tread on another man’s territory.”

With that, he was gone and Marc looked as if he could blow a fuse when he faced Kate again. “Did he do anything inappropriate?” he demanded.

Kate considered telling him about Renault’s intimations but decided to wait until later when she was assured they were alone. “His kind are a dime a dozen and I know how to handle them.”

“And you will tell me if he is the least bit out of line.” It wasn’t a request.

“I promise I’ll tell you if I have to hurt him.” She handed Marc the baby and smiled. “Now you go with your…king, Cecile, and I’ll be back later today.” She kissed the baby’s cheek one last time and reined in her urge to do the same to Marc. “Be a good girl, sweetie. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’m certain she’ll look forward to your return.” Marc leaned toward Kate’s ear and whispered, “And so will I, so hurry.”

Then Marc left the room, leaving Kate standing alone in a state of confusion. Couldn’t Marc make up his mind? He was making her head spin with his no-we-can’t and yes-we-will attitude. He did want her; that was becoming apparent to Kate each time they were together. Yet he kept saying he couldn’t have her. But if Marc’s resistance completely waned, how far would she allow things to go, since she recognized it wouldn’t be more than a fling? Did she dare make love with him?

Yes. No question about it. She wasn’t looking for a knight’s rescue, only a night of incredible lovemaking. A little adventure. She wanted to experience true freedom in his arms without worrying about pleasing anyone aside from herself—and Marc DeLoria.

She shivered thinking about it, thinking about him, thinking about all the ways he could take her places she’d never been before.

Imagine that, making love with a king. Now if only the king would cooperate.

Five

After Kate conducted the lab tests, Dr. Martine asked if she could possibly see some patients—minor cases, most involving common colds and well-baby checks. She agreed and was accompanied by a very nice Australian-born nurse named Caroline, who aided Kate in interpreting conditions of those who spoke only French or Castilian, and there were more than a few.

By that afternoon, Kate was high on adrenaline but still concerned about the language barriers. She made a mental note to get out the tapes and books to study when she had a spare minute. If she ever had a spare minute. She also needed to call home soon. She hadn’t spoken with her mother, hadn’t even told her that she’d accepted the position. Kate refused to perceive that as a problem. It was high time for her family to learn to live without her constant attention.

Fortunately, Renault had been scarce during the day, which was probably the reason why the clinic had been running so far behind, not that Kate had minded his absence or treating his patients. She’d welcomed rejoining the world of medicine—and avoiding confronting Marc with the knowledge she now held—the test results.

After arriving back at the palace, she waited in Marc’s private study with that knowledge while Mr. Nicholas summoned the king. It could be a while, Nicholas had told her, since Marc had gone out for a drive. Kate assumed this was Marc’s only means to relax—or to escape. And when he found out that Cecile shared his rare blood type, he might climb back into his coveted car and keep driving.

Kate milled around the office, pulling various books from the shelves, mainly from nervousness instead of real interest. Most involved business acumen, as far as she could tell, since all were written in French. Except for one well-worn English volume of Hamlet that looked as though it had been handed down through the generations. Ironic, Kate decided, since to be or not to be was definitely the question of the moment in terms of Marc’s possible parental ties to Cecile.

Yet he’d been so adamant he wasn’t Cecile’s father that Kate almost believed him. In some ways she still did, since she really had no reason not to take him at his word. She also knew that accidents happened, and unless Cecile’s mother came forward, they might never know the truth.

When the phone shrilled, Kate nearly jumped out of her functional black shoes. She waited while the phone rang again for someone to answer. Maybe she should answer it. It could be Marc’s private line and he might be calling her to say he’d been detained. If not, she would have to take a message.

But how should she answer? The DeLoria Residence? The King’s Office?

On the fourth ring, Kate leaned over the desk, grabbed the receiver and settled for a simple, “Hello.”

A long silence ensued until a breathy feminine voice asked, “Is this Marc’s secretary?”

Kate was overcome with an insane spark of jealousy. “No, this is not Marc’s secretary.”

The woman released a grating laugh. “Then you must be my replacement. I do hope you are taking advantage of Marc’s expertise. He is quite a skilled lover, isn’t he? Has he taken you to the little mountain cabin yet?”

Kate had no desire to confirm or deny anything to this woman, especially since she appeared to be one of Marc’s erstwhile lovers. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Why, darling, this is Elsa,” she fairly purred.

As if that should mean something to Kate. “Well, Elsa, is there something I can do for you?” Darling.

“I am calling to see if Marc received the gift I had delivered to the palace.”

Gift? Surely she didn’t mean… “Does this gift happen to have blue eyes and blond hair?”

“Why yes, darling, it does. A little reminder of our time together. Tell Marc to enjoy.”

The line went dead and Kate could only stare at the receiver before slamming the phone back on its cradle.

Obviously she had been wrong to believe Marc. Obviously this Elsa was Cecile’s mother, if you could actually call her that. What kind of woman would just drop her baby off at a gate and then leave? A heartless, cruel woman who didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.

Kate’s heart felt weighted with the knowledge that her questions had now been answered. Marc had fathered a child by some flighty femme fatale who had no business being a parent. And Kate dared Marc to deny his daughter now.

Marc couldn’t deny he was in a huge hurry to see Kate. He entered the palace through the back access at a fast clip, Nicholas dogging his every step. “Where is Dr. Milner now?”